


The beginning of the tragedy

by Laurie wonders (Laurie1621), Laurie1621



Series: Is this still a tragedy? [2]
Category: Legacies (TV 2018), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV), Vikings (TV), Vikings (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Brotherly Love, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Flashbacks, Gen, Jealous Klaus Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson Has A Heart, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Klaus Mikaelson, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Rebekah Mikaelson, Sad, Threesome - F/M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurie1621/pseuds/Laurie%20wonders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurie1621/pseuds/Laurie1621
Summary: "I've been drowning on my loveEver since they were born.And I can drown a little more,If it means we'll get them to a safer shore."OrIn which the Mikaelsons are turned into vampires, by kinder means and for much crueler reasons.Their "Always and Forever" came at a much greater cost than they ever dared to imagine.[Pre TVD/TO AU]
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson/Kol Mikaelson/Rebekah Mikaelson/Tatia, Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson/Tatia, Elijah Mikaelson/Tatia, Esther Mikaelson & Tatia, Finn Mikaelson/Tatia, Klaus Mikaelson/Tatia, Kol Mikaelson/Tatia, Mikael & Elijah Mikaelson, Mikael & Finn Mikaelson, Mikael & Klaus Mikaelson, Mikael & Kol Mikaelson, Mikael/Ansel, Mikael/Esther Mikaelson, Mikael/Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson/Tatia
Series: Is this still a tragedy? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913977
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Mikaelson family fluff





	1. When did it begin?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a series, called "Is This Still a Tragedy?", focus on the Mikaelson siblings and their parents.  
> There will be lots of major divergencies from cannon.
> 
> (But you don't have to read any other fic to get this one, though if you like this, you might also like the others. The other fics will give you more information and back story)
> 
> Please comment your thoughts :D  
> Enjoy!

When did the tragedy of the Mikaelson family begin?  
Did it start with Esther's sins of desperation, or Dahlia's cruel bargain?   
Did it begin when Esther gave up her darling Freya, and then blamed Mikael for her pain? Was her worst sin to kiss Ansel, one dark cold night, when she thought her beloved husband would not come back? 

No. It could not be. Her worst sin must have been begging Mikael to take little Klaus into the woods and...Was that the beginning then?   
When the awful words left her mouth:   
" _I don't want him! He is a monster!"_

Perhaps their downfall was sat into motion when Mikael convinced Esther to keep Niklaus.  
When her husband held their baby boy in his arms, as tears blurred his vision, and said:  
 _"He is our little miracle, love! A miracle your God must have sent us....look at him! My gods are not kind enough to give out angels like this..."_

Was it all a punishment for Esther's sin of ignoring the madness in her husband's eyes? Were her children cursed simply because she dismissed Mikael's pleads? When he begged her to stop him from becoming a monster and harming their children?

Maybe her greatest sin was that she loved him too much to let him go, but not enough to believe his fears...

Or maybe it was Mikael's fault, all because of his temper...  
Was Mikael always a monster and Esther simply refused to see it?   
Or was his madness a sickness passed down to Mikael by his father's cruel blood?

Perhaps it was simply a cursed crafted by her sister, Dahlia, to punish Esther for leaving her...

Were their children destined to become monsters like their father?   
Was her husband always fated to destroy their children's happiness?

Was Tragedy ineffable?


	2. Their Sins And Failures: The Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the second prologue I wrote to flash out the Mikaelson kids. There will be more chapters soon.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts if you liked this

_When did the tragedy begin?_

_Could it all be the children's fault?_

_Were their sins truly terrible enough to anger the Gods?_

_Or were they simply the victims of a tragic twist of fate?_

**Their Darling Freya,**

She would always remember the beautiful days when her father took her in his arms and spun her around. Sometimes she would hear his words in the wind. He cried for her, cursing the Gods for taking his darling girl from him. Yet, he also told Freya about her new siblings; the brothers and sister she had to love from afar.

She called and called for him to come get her back, but the wind was not as kind to her. Mikael never came for his daughter. Even when he stumbled around, numbly trying to find her, Dahlia's spells made sure he could not hear his little girl calling for him.

Yet every night Freya wished upon a star. She swore she would be good, the perfect daughter, the dearest sister...if only she could have her family again...if only the Gods would let her father come to save her...

_Did her envy, even if distant and hidden away, brought on her siblings' downfall?_

**The Dutiful Finn,**

With his quiet dreams and desperate devotion. He might have forgotten to be a good brother, but he always was such a brilliant son.

But what of his dreams? He always knew he differed from his brothers, so very full of otherness...

His herbs and potions kept him company as he hid in his little garden. He was always too afraid to be near the others, always terrified they would know his secret. What if they could see through his emotionless expressions, what if they saw into his heart?

He could never let himself be truly happy. That alone would be a mortal sin.

_Was it his sin of loving the wrong lips, the reason the Gods punished their family?_

**The Responsible Elijah** ,

So dedicated to his family; always desperately trying to keep the peace. The perfect brother, the favorite son. The one their parents trusted most.

Yet so very romantic, so easily awed by her beauty... But, by Gods, if his heart were to fail him, if he was to love someone to death, who else would it be but Tatia? With her smile, her kind words and her heart made of sunlight...What madman would not love her?

Of course he could not see the harm his love would do, not until the very end.... But how could he? After all, isn't the first fall of a heart the most blinding of them all?

_Did his tragic love for Tatia destroy their family?_

**The Devoted Niklaus**

All he ever wanted was to make his father proud, so very desperate to prove he was good enough...

Yet, perhaps his attempts were the reason Mikael did the unthinkable.

But who else could Mikael choose to bear the mark? Who else could carry the burden of the Beast, but the boy who was the Viking warrior's spitting image? And how could the son so alike Mikael in temper, courage and recklessness, be anything but his own flesh and blood?

Was his mere existence the reason for their suffering?

_Or was Niklaus' blind love and devotion to the monster he called father the reason for their divine punishment?_

**The Brave Rebekah**

So eager to wield a sword, so willing to fight for what she believed in. A true shield maiden at heart, dreaming of wars and love stories, all in one heartbeat. Yet her mother had treated her as one would a delicate flower. How could she not be enraged when her brothers could fight and she could only sew? Who could say she was wrong when she picked up a sword and ran to fight for her family?

Perhaps she could have held back, she could have made better choices during the fight. She got carried away and lost her heart on the battlefield. Perhaps she should have known better...But after all, she had always been her father's daughter. She knew Mikael would never run from a fight, so why would she?

_Was her blind bravery the reason behind their tragedy?_

**The Reckless Kol,**

The family's prodigy, a naturally gifted wizard. His abilities earned him tenderness from Mikael, strictness from Esther, and jealousy from his siblings. He was the youngest for so long, how could he not get used to attention? Yet becoming an older brother only made him more impulsive. But how could he not, when his older siblings ignored him?

Was his mistake the beginning of it all?

When he fell in front of them, the humiliation, their cruel words, the pain their laughter brought to his chest...

Was he not right to seek help?

Perhaps he was simply too naïve to doubt the man's intentions. His heart was still too soft to think that such a bargain could lead to suffering. Maybe he was too young to know he was making a deal with the Devil...

_Was his desperate desire to prove himself to his brothers and to his father the reason their lives fell apart?_

**The Little Henrik**

So terribly curious, even if quiet. He never got into trouble, he left such things for his older brothers. But he wanted to see the wolves. He dreamt of it, and such thoughts flooded his mind. He knew he should not go far, but he only wanted to see his father and his friend. Oh, he only wanted to see the wolves under the full moon, nothing more...

Of course he could have gone alone. But the night still scared him, and Nik promised he would always protect him.

It was an innocent mistake....

If only he had run when Klaus told him to....If he had paid more attention.... If only his father had not told him to be brave...

_Was his curiosity the reason chaos devoured their happiness?_

_Though, perhaps their mortal sin was to be born with misery in their veins...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really liked this style for the prologue. I'll rewrite the old prologue so it follows this style too, but it will center on Esther, Mikael and Ansel. I'll post the new version soon, along some new chapters. Thanks for reading. Please leave your thoughts if you enjoyed this!


	3. one warm summer night

During her centuries on the Other Side—while she atoned for the sin of creating vampires—, Esther often wondered when the Great Tragedy of her family began. In such times, she never thought of Niklaus' birth nor his conception; not even of the night Dahlia took her daughter. Those were her unforgivable sins, yes. Though, over the years, she paid for them with tears, regret and shame that sometimes made her dream of running a blade through her heart.

But they were tragedies she brought upon herself by the mistakes she made. Her children didn't (always) suffer because of them. There were sunny days. She liked to think at least a bit of happiness came from those mistakes. As Esther laid in bed, she always imagined (to the point of believing it vehemently) that her sister loved her daughter Freya and cherished her just as much as Esther did. But, for as hard as he was on their boy, Esther did not need to imagine the love Mikael held in his heart for Niklaus. She could see it in his eyes. Every-time Mikael watched the boys training, his entire body would tense with worry, (and sometimes rage at their imprudence). And yet his eyes would always shine with quiet, but undeniable pride when Niklaus performed the moves Mikael had taught him. 

No. Her sins were only the reason behind the tragedy. They were the reason the Gods saw fit to punish her and her family with tragedy. But it did not begin until the night she opened the door of her hut to Tatia. Even with the knowledge of how the tragedy would unfold, Esther knew she would never had turned the young woman away.

The poor girl had controlled herself for longer than Esther thought she would have done herself, if she had been in Tatia's place. She asked Esther for help in very vague terms after she gave her and her daughter something to eat. Tatia put her daughter to sleep on Henrik's old bed, after Esther insisted. Esther knew some of her children could still awake, so they only talked in faint whispers.

Mikael glanced at Tatia with a infuriated expression when she started her explanations. He had avoided her since she entered the hut. Esther didn't think much of it. He had spent the entire day hunting; she assumed he was tired and didn't want to take part in whatever conversation the two women were bond to have. As soon as Tatia stepped in, Esther could sense there was something wrong with her. Though, she thought it was something minor, an illness that could be cured with remedies or magic.

But Mikael knew Tatia would say long before she opened her mouth. He had seen the look she had in her eyes before. His mother had helped many women like her. After sobs began to cut Tatia's breath, Mikael hurried out of the house.

"I'll get her some water..." He muttered awkwardly, leaving them alone. He turned around just before closing the door and watched as his wife held Tatia in her arms. The young woman's shoulders shook violently. When he got back, they both clean their faces. Esther opened her mouth to explain the situation, but Mikael cut her off.

"Do you think your husband will come for you?" Mikael asked grievously as he gave each of them a cup with water.

The two women stared at him, briefly mute. A smile played on Esther's lips. After twenty years, her husband still surprised her.

"I-I do not know..." Tatia muttered sorrowfully, "Perhaps...I..." a small sob cut through her. Esther held her hand and smile softly at her. Tatia took a long breath before continuing. "I was... I was too afraid to tell him I, I wanted..." violent sobs made her breathless. "Forgive me..."

"It's alright, dear..." Esther said tenderly.

"I, I just, God, I just wanted to, to get out..." Titia whispered.

Mikael exhaled deeply. "Do you think he will come looking for you here?" He asked, worriedly glancing at his children.

"I..." Tatia was shocked at the tenderness in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry..."

"Don't say that." Esther urged. "You have nothing to apologize for." she glanced at her husband. "It is within your right, child. Viking law says any woman can divorce her husband..."

"Bolverk have not obeyed our laws in years..." Mikael said bitterly. "The bastard is more Christian than the both of you put together." he said scornfully. They glanced at him.

"Mikael..." Esther began reproachingly. Her husband scoffed softly.

"Alright." He said getting up. "I think you both could use some sleep..." He says matter-of-factly. "I don't believe your husband will come here tonight. But when he does..." he grabbed his sword. "I'll be ready for the bastard. So," he smiles tenderly at them both. "You need not worry about him any longer."

Tatia cried softly of relief. She must have thanked them a hundred times. Esther led her to their bed and insisted she laid down. She knew Tatia wouldn't fall asleep for the life of her, so she made her a bit of enchanted tea and held her hand until she was asleep. Mikael watched them quietly. He sat on the table, with his bare sword rested on his lap. His eyes wondered around the hut, lingering on his sleeping children and on the door.

"If you don't think he will come tonight..." Esther muttered, as she gently touched his shoulder. "Perhaps you should sleep, my love..." Mikael takes her hand into his and press it against his lips. She smiles.

"Bolverk is not a man to be trifled with, Esther." he says severely. "This could start a war with his people."

"It will not come to it... I'm sure..." Esther said uncertainly. His words filled her with worry. "You can talk some sense into him, I'm sure of it, dear..." she said with fake determination as she followed his gaze to meet their children's sleeping faces. Esther's heart almost stopped as she thought of her sons... _so young and tender still.... they were only boys.... War would destroy them..._

A smile played on Mikael's lips as he kissed her hand. It warmed her heart. After all their hardships, he still had the same tender way to show her his love. It reminded Esther of simpler times, or, at least, a time when she still believed life could be simple. 

"I could never phantom where your faith in me comes from, darling..." He whispered halfheartedly. "You should go to bed, my love..." he urged tenderly. Esther opened her mouth to protest. "I will go too... soon, love..."

Esther knew he would not. Still, she leaned in and kissed his cheek softly before going to bed.

The two of them barely slept that night. Esther laid next to Tatia and, from time to time, she woke up abruptly and glanced at her children. Mikael slept on the floor, leaning against a column, facing the door, with his sword still on his lap. He would wake up with a jolt almost as frequently as Esther. Their thoughts lingered on their children. Mikael smiled as he wondered what his sons and daughter would think when morning came and they found their father sleeping on the floor.

Mikael's hand rested lazily on his sword handle. Dreams and memories of war filled his mind as he drifted in and out of sleep.In his dazed state, his uncle's words echoed from his past: "It is a happy day when a father takes his sons to battle for the first time..."His uncle had said many things to him throughout the years. Some much kinder than anything that ever came out of his own father's mouth. And yet, now it was his uncle's gentle and hopeful words (and not his father's cruel ones) that filled Mikael's heart with dread and sorrow. Mikael was his father's son, but he was not his father. And he knew he did not have the strength within him to carry his sons' bodies out of the battlefield, as his father had done far too many times. _War would destroy them all..._


	4. Danger is on its way

When the children woke up early that morning, they were more frightened than surprised. Though that was to not surprising. Mikael with a sword, even asleep, was always a frightening vision. Their father had something about him, which inspired a quiet sense of fear and demanded respect, even when he was perfectly calm and still. 

There had been an unspoken agreement since the day the Vikings settlers sat sail to the New World that Mikael was their leader. With Mikael’s father and grandfather being who they were, there was never any doubt that he had to be the one leading their new village. But Mikael had refused all tittles and privileges, telling them he did not come to the New World to be king. Still, all the villagers came to him for guidance in all kinds of matters. He was the one to lead the sacrificial ceremonies and resolve disputes over lands, payments and so on. He was their strongest connection to their culture and laws.

Esther knew, however, Mikael resented his duties. He performed them religiously, but he secretly wished he did not have to do so. She also knew none of their children, not even Finn, understood the roots nor the reach of their father’s power and influence over what happened in their village. Still, they knew Mikael was very respected and feared among their people. So, when they whispered questions to their mother about what had happened, she quickly fashioned a good lie that satisfied their curiosity.

“There were some drunks rambling around last night,” she whispered as they all sat around the table. “Your father scared them away, but stood guard in case they came back.” 

As Tatia and her daughter joined them, Esther quickly added: “This is Tatia. She was our neighbor until the winter before last. She will stay here for a time. So,” she turned to Kol and Klaus, “Behave, boys. And make her feel welcome.” 

She smiled softly as they blushed. Thinking their father was still asleep, they all whispered polite and quick introductions.

But Mikael had been awake since before his children got up. Still, he sat there through his children’s inquiries, his eyes closed and his head pressed against the column. He smiled softly as he heard his wife’s voice and her explanations. Esther knew Mikael was not asleep as soon as she laid eyes on him. She walked over to him, after instructing her sons, and softly touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes lazily, and she handed him a cup with his favorite tea. He smiled brightly as he took her hand in his and press it against his lips. A warm smile shaped her lips as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Good morning, mitt hjerte*...” he whispered as their foreheads touched. 

“Good morning, min kriger**...” she replied.

Their children stared at them dazedly. Their father’s tenderness, even with their mother, never ceased to amaze them. Rebekah, in particular, always sighed at how romantic their father could be with their mother. But they also knew better and looked away quickly when their parents turned to face them. 

Mikael put away his sword before sitting down at the table. His children greeted him politely, knowing their father’s good moods were easily shredded. The siblings talked happily with each other and Tatia for some time. Though the boys were reluctant to get too comfortable, since their father would most likely drag them out for training soon. It surprised them to realize morning was running thin and Mikael was yet to end their merry breakfast. 

Perhaps it was all Tatia’s influence. Her presence, now that she was calm and happy, seemed to fill the air with a sweet warmth. She and Rebekah soon took to talking, and their friendship grew faster than weeds. Talia was beautiful, and her smile was as contagious as the plague. She made both Finn and Kol laugh brightly, and at the same time which was no small feat considering how different their tastes in humor were.

Tatia instantly enchanted Niklaus. He glanced at her numbly, a big smile shaping his face as his eyes shined at every look he could steal from her. Every word he directed at her was full of easy-going playfulness and sweetness. However, none of them felt more enamored by her than Elijah. Just as Klaus, he would glare dreamily at her. Though, unlike his brother, Elijah’s voice would fail him; creaking or being cut by delighted sighs as he tried to control the unusual beats of his falling heart. 

Mikael and Esther were painfully aware of their sons’ growing passion for the young woman. Esther feared they were both too immature to understand love, and she hoped their fixation would pass soon. Mikael, however, knew the look in his sons’ eyes was hardly just of a childish love. But he preferred to ignore such things, at least for now. He and Esther still had a couple of years before their boys were fully grown man. For now, they were still boys.

“You are not to wander outside of the village for the next few days.” Mikael ordered severely as his children finished eating. “I will let you know when you may do so again.” He added before any of them could protest. He got up quietly. “In the meantime, you can keep our guest company and help her and your mother.”

Mikael kissed Esther’s forehead tenderly before he left their hut to go talk with some elders of their village. He went looking for the older warriors, the men who had fought alongside Mikael’s father, King Stoick. One in particular, Myriad, had always been a good friend and ally, and Mikael hoped he could acquire some information about Bolverk’s plans.

Their children asked many questions because of their father’s command. Some Esther thought she could answer with a small lie, but others she felt as though were best left unanswered. Her children accepted their orders resentfully. Though Tatia helped cheer them up.

The two weeks that followed were happy ones. Klaus secretly painted a picture of Tatia’s face. He, Rebekah, and Elijah accompanied Tatia to her mother’s hut. There they met Tatia’s adoptive younger sister, Lila, who was closer to their age and soon became friends with Rebekah and Klaus. Though, Tatia did not stay with her mother very long, for it saddened her too much. Still, Elijah and Klaus would bend over to make sure Tatia was happy. Rebekah enjoyed helping Tatia take care of her daughter; she loved brushing the little girl’s hair and imagined a day when she would do so for her own daughter. The two women talked for hours on end, which annoyed Niklaus and Elijah, especially when they would ban the boys from their conversations—so they could discuss more delicate matters. Rebekah seemed to be Tatia’s favorite; in less than a week they were acting as sisters, both hopelessly romantic and stubborn. Esther approved of their friendship more than she approved of her sons’ attempts to woo Tatia. Yet, Esther could not deny it warmed her heart when she heard Elijah humming soft melodies and saw Niklaus painting beautiful images after they spent the day with Tatia. 

Kol almost disliked Tatia, for she made it harder for him to get his siblings’ attention. Though, he could not stay upset with her for long, considering how sweet she was with him and the way she always asked him to join them when he walked passed their little group. And yet, neither Kol nor Finn could understand their brother’s fixation with Tatia. However, Kol quickly grew fond of Lila, as they both had a zest for mischief, and his magic easily impressed her. Though, he was even more impressed when it seemed as she too had a talent for magic. Their friendship boosted Kol’s confidence and desire to learn magic (which both delighted and terrified his mother).

Finn grew closer to his little brother Henrik in the days that passed. Since little Henrik could not accompany Niklaus and Elijah in their pursuit of gifts for Tatia, he stayed behind. Finn reluctantly took Henrik under his wing, after Esther asked, and began teaching his brother about herbs and medicines. It surprised him when his brother seemed to enjoy the lessons and sought his older brother’s company regularly. Though, Finn was even more so when Mikael approved of his initiative and softly touched his son’s shoulder, silently telling Finn he was proud of him. Their father had been more tender since Tatia arrived. It remained Finn of the years when his older sister was still alive. And even though he was not sure how much of Mikael’s strange softness was a product of Tatia’s presence, Finn was still thankful to her.

Tatia filled the days of the Mikaelson children with laughter and smiles, a warm aura of tenderness and happiness seemed to dwell over their hearts. Their parents were glad for it, but a shadow of anticipation hovered over their family. Mikael and Esther wondered for how long they could keep their children oblivious to their uneasiness.

Late at night, after she put her daughter to bed, Tatia would whisper questions, her lips trembling as she begged Mikael for news about her (now former) husband. Esther would hold her hand, as her husband told Tatia not to worry. Though, Mikael rarely told either of them what he knew of Bolverk’s actions. Tatia thanked them again and again every night before gladly accepting Esther’s magic tea and falling asleep.

Esther would then try to convince her husband to lie down. But it was no use; he always refused. Once Mikael kissed his wife’s hand and wished her a good night, he would sit alone on their table. With his sword resting on his lap, Mikael would let his mind drift to the decisions which now could cost his family’s safety.

The prospect of a war had been something which Myriad had warned him of repeatedly over the years. Though, Myriad was usually more concerned with the wolves than with Bolverk’s people. During the rough early years in the new continent, their werewolf neighbor frighten the settlers, forcing them to remain close to shore. But as time passed, Mikael’s friendship with Ansel provided a great alliance between the two villages, and it encouraged the Vikings to build their huts inland. It was almost ten years before Mikael and Ansel’s seemly unbreakable bond was shattered overnight, disturbing the peace of the villagers. Mikael could not bring himself to think of a lie which he could tell his people, so he simply let the rumors spread. Thankfully, as the peace remained, since there was no confrontation with the wolves, the subject quickly died.

Only four years after the Vikings’ arrival in the New World, Bolverk announced he would lead his own village and gathered all the men how disagreed with Mikael’s leadership. Myriad told Mikael it would be wise to be prepared for a war. Yet, he did not want to believe such a thing would happen, especially when their village had just prospered. Stubborn as he was, Mikael did not listen, and as he started at the closed door, he cursed himself under his breath for his foolishness. 

Their village was completely unprepared for war. The sons of the settlers were all soft and foolish, they could not be called warriors. As for the men, most of them had not yielded a sword in years or were already too old to fight. Not to mention the poor state of their swords, and the fact it would take them months to make more weapons. But perhaps most of all, Mikael had underestimated Bolverk, who was now gathering his men and preparing for war.

 _But I’ll be damned if I let my mistakes ruin their happiness._ The thought burned Mikael’s mind almost every night.

A fortnight had passed since Tatia begged Mikael and Esther, when Bolverk came to their door in the middle of the night. Three men accompanied him. Though, when Mikael told them off, none of them stepped forward to fight him. The conversation was short and dry. Bolverk’s eyes held the promise of revenge, and Mikael only begged his Gods for his family to be left out of the upcoming war.

Mikael was thankful when he went back inside, and his children were still asleep. He kissed his wife’s cheek before laying beside her in their bed. He closed his eyes tiredly, knowing that for the time being his home and family were safe. 

And yet, he could not stop his uneasy dreams. Something in the back of his mind flustered him. Mikael could feel his good days ending… his sanity would leave him. He would soon descend again into his dreadful, maddening state. He would soon be cruel to them. Esther would hardly realize. She almost never did. Mikael felt his eyes burning as he thought about his beloved wife and what she thought of him. Esther was always far too dismissive of his cruelty, as though she had always expected him to be a monster…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *my heart  
> **my warrior  
> (in Norwegian)
> 
> I really appreciate comments!


	5. Keep it safe for me

Esther helped Tatia move to Ayana’s hut on the very next day. The day after, Mikael lead his sons as they helped build a small room for Tatia and her daughter next to Ayana’s hut. Even after she moved, Tatia came to their hut anytime she could, and they all talked happily. Mikael was glad to sleep on a bed again and his mood was brighter for a much longer time than his children expected. Their meals were happier for a time.

But almost two weeks had gone by, and Esther still forbid them from leaving the village. It did not take long for the siblings to realize something was wrong.

Their mother was nervous. She was praying far too much. Esther asked Tatia to help her arrange a small and old altar they had in their yard. The two of them decorated it with flowers and some spare candles. Mikael even fixed the small cross for her to place over it. Every morning, she kneeled in front of her alter, put her hands together and prayed. Esther raised her children to be at least partly christian. They knew most stories, holy days and even some preyers. Still, there was something inherently worrying about how their mother was praying. Perhaps they would have thought little about it, if she did not flinch every time the door of their hut opened abruptly. Esther would gaze at her children and her eyes would suddenly be filled with tears; as though she had some dreadful information, which they could not understand. 

As for Mikael, they thought he seemed different as well. But it was hard to be sure if he was nervous. They usually only saw their father in two moods: enraged and calm. And he could jump between them fast. Too fast. A dreadful shadow passed through his eyes every time his mood changed. Mikael became an entirely different man when he was enrage; then, he was more beast than man. They were always afraid their father would beat them dead when he lost his temper. But he never did. On rare occasions, it had seemed he would have done so: he always stopped; as voice in the back of his mind held him back. In reality, he rarely hit them at all. Mikael would mostly yell and, when he thought they were being particularly foolish, push them against walls. Only at his very worst, he would slap them across the face. Even if Mikael did not beat his children, his mere presence terrified his children to their bones. His harsh words always beat the life out of every one of them; it always made them cry themselves to sleep (Niklaus especially). At times, they thought a beating would have been kinder than their father’s scolding.

Mikael insisted he needed them to listen to him, to learn, otherwise they would die. He tried to reason his actions to his children. But something in the way he avoided looking them in the eye after he yelled, made them believe he was ashamed. None of the siblings ever said such a theory out loud, but deep in their hearts, they all wished to believe their father was only trying to protect them, in his own way.

Now, however, Mikael was absentmindedly calm. So much so, it almost frightened them. He seemed stoically unfazed by everything as he would fidget with his arm-ring. He glance at his children as though he was watching them from underwater. He had been like this ever since the night he left the house abruptly when a man came yelling to their door.

Now, however, Mikael was absentmindedly calm. He seemed stoically unfazed by everything as he would fidget with his arm-ring. He glance at his children as though he was watching them from underwater. He had been in this state ever since the night he left the house abruptly when a man came yelling to their door. 

Kol was the only one who had been awake that night. He told the others the strange things he had heard. And he enjoyed immensely the attention they gave him, begging him to repeat the tale a dozen times. Even though, Kol never admitted, he did not understand every word in the conversation. So, they knew only that the drunk man had disobeyed one of their laws (which and why they could not tell) and that their father would be the one to punish him (how and when was a mystery). 

None of them, however, dared to ask their parents about the incident. And so, out of curiosity, they all elaborated their own theories about what had and would happen. Finn was the only one to abstain from the debates. Rebekah and Elijah liked the theory that Mikael was protecting some woman from an aggressive suitor and letting her be free to marry her genuine love. Though, they didn’t have a clue who said woman would be (Tatia didn’t even cross their minds).

Kol liked to present more outlandish ideas, most of which involved some kind of dramatic conspiracy. He briefly thought their father might be in love with said woman, but even as the words left his mouth he realized how stupid they sounded. 

Mikael still brought Esther flowers every day. He would hide them in his hair and give them to her haphazardly, as though he didn’t want her to think much of it. He still took her hand to his lips whenever she touched his shoulder. No, it was obvious their father could love no one as he loved their mother.

Klaus and Henrik did not have a definitive option. Henrik was quiet. He was still too young to understand most of the matters his siblings were discussing, but he enjoyed listening to them. Klaus, however, did not care much about the actual story. Between trying to catch Tatia’s attention and the strange tenderness Mikael had been showing him in the past weeks, Niklaus didn’t think about much else. Though, he wondered why Mikael was so nervous, and dreaded the answer. 

Another week passed by before their questions were answered. 

Mikael announced his departure right after super. He said he would go hunting before dawn. Esther tried to persuade him to stay, but it was no use. 

Mikael had already left when Esther sent Henrik and Niklaus after him. They caught their father just before he left the village’s borders.

“Mother sent you this.” Henrik blurted out abruptly as they reached Mikael. He handed his father a small bag made of a piece of cloth. Mikael took it uncertainly. “If you get hungry…” Henrik added hesitantly as Mikael unwrapped the cloth to find an apple and a piece of bread. 

“Thank her for me then…” Mikael said brightly, as he softly smiled and touched his youngest son’s hair. It surprised Henrik at first, but he smiled cheerfully at his father. With a deep breath, Mikael looked away, feeling weary. “Well,” he cleaned his throat. “Stroll along now. Back home. Or your mother will worry…” he said, gently touching his son’s shoulder. 

Henrik smiled shyly and turned back. But Klaus reminded still where he was. He stared at his father’s face, while Mikael gazed longingly at their home. 

“Niklaus–,” Mikael began, in a tired reproaching tone, once he noticed Klaus did not seem to have any intention to move. 

“You forgot this!” Klaus said promptly, showing Mikael one of his knives. Mikael stared at Klaus, confused. “I-I, well, I just, I just, I thought you better take it with you…” he said handing it to Mikael. “Wherever you go…” Klaus muttered uncertainly. 

Mikael took the knife from his son and stared at it briefly. He chuckled softly as his eyes lost themselves in memories. He raised his eyes to meet Klaus, who gazed at his father nervously. Mikael smiled tenderly as he casually played with the blade in his hand. He briefly made a few stunts with it, which made Klaus smile in amazement. Mikael chuckled as he saw the dazed expression on his son’s face.

“You know,” Mikael said, still smiling, though slowly returning to his usual serious posture. “This here was always one of my favorites…” One last smile shaped his face as he glanced at his son. “I wouldn’t want to lose it, would I?” His face contorted with worry as he handed the knife back to Klaus.

“Father… why would you lose–,”

“Take it!” Mikael urged severely. 

Klaus took the knife back hesitantly and stared perplexed at his father. Mikael avoided his son’s gaze briefly. After a deep breath, he cleaned his throat and softly touch Niklaus’ shoulder. Klaus was no less shocked than Henrik with the unusual amount of tenderness in his father’s posture. But unlike Henrik, Mikael’s affection always made Niklaus fall into a dazed state of dreamlike happiness.

“Keep it safe for me, would you, son?” He asked quietly. A small smile played on his lips. 

“Yes, father…” Klaus responded, with the solemnity of a priest give out holy wine. Mikael chuckled softly.

“Good then,” He let his hand fall from his son’s shoulder. “Go home then… Tell your mother not to worry too much…” A dreadful expression passed through Mikael’s face as he turned to leave. 

“I’ll give it back to you…” Klaus blurted out, uncertainly reaching for his father’s arm. “I’ll keep it safe until you get back, father!” Niklaus added breathlessly. He stared desperately at Mikael; his heart yelling that he should do everything that he could to make that moment last longer.

Mikael stared at his son’s expression of anguish. Klaus’ face was contorted with genuine fear and worry. Mikael briefly wondered if his son knew what he was about to do. Though, he pushed the thought out of his mind quickly. 

“Alright”. Mikael nodded haphazardly. He smiled and softly patted Klaus’ arm. “Don’t go cutting yourself with it ‘till then, my boy”. He teased, gently messing Klaus’ hair. His son beamed like a little child, and Mikael almost forgot he had to stretch his hand higher to touch his son’s hair. _Good Gods_ , he pondered, _when did he get this big?_ Mikael smiled shyly as he watched his son’s face become brighter with his words and touch _. He still has that same radiant smile_ , Mikael thought _, the one he used to greet me with every time I came back too tired..._

A shadow passed through Mikael’s face as he let his arm fall down. “Hurry home, now, Klaus. It’s almost night, boy…” he breathed, still smiling at his son. 

Mikael turned around to leave before Niklaus could protest. Klaus stood there, watching as his father disappeared behind the trees. He strolled home resentfully, replaying his father’s words in his head. His father soft touch on his arm made him smile numbly.

At home, Klaus helped his mother and said his father seemed alright. When night fell, he laid down to sleep next to his siblings. He would have sworn to anyone that asked: he truly tried to fall asleep. However, his mind would not let him. Mikael’s words still echoed within him, making him dream of a tender and kinder father from then on…

Still, it was clear Mikael was not ‘going for a hunt’ that evening. Something in his father’s posture made Niklaus’ heart sink in his chest. It took him an hour, rolling around in bed, to understand what his father’s expression had meant: Mikael was afraid. And that was enough to terrify Klaus to his bones. After all, Klaus and all the others held two common and indisputable beliefs _: Mikael was utterly invincible and scared of absolutely nothing…_

Yet, his father’s eyes shined with such worry as he said goodbye to Niklaus…. As he laid in bed and stared at the closed door, Mikael’s words burned in Klaus’ mind: “ _keep it safe for me”…_ was it something in the way his mouth twitched when he said it? Or perhaps it was the anguished way his father glanced at their home; or even the way he messed with Klaus’ hair, like he hadn’t done in years…

That was it: Mikael looked at Niklaus like he hadn’t seen his son in ages, and he missed him. Niklaus knew that look. It was the same look Mikael had on his eyes when Klaus and the other were still children, and they would run out to the edges of the village, just to meet him when he got back from a long hunt… they were always so happy to see their father coming home…

Niklaus felt a jolt as his blood seemed to turn cold and a knot form in his stomach. The air deserted his lungs. His mind raced to the only plausible answer: “ _father doesn’t think he will come back…”_

Klaus felt his eyes burning with tears as he got up desperately. He quietly grabbed the knife Mikael gave him and walked into the night. His mind filled with worry and his heart almost crawled out of his mouth every time he thought about his father’s hand on his shoulder. He marched into the woods armed with determination and high hopes that _this time_ he would make Mikael proud of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought no one would read this, Cause it’s been a while since TVD and The Originals ended...but I guess quarantine is still being a bitch and everyone needs a distraction. So hurray! I’ll post more chapters here and on the other fics as well.  
> I really appreciate comments guys.


	6. The Brave Army of Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains (somewhat graphic) depictions of violence.

Niklaus could smell the blood long before he found the bodies.

He had walked all night. At times, when Niklaus imagined the aftermath of whatever trouble Mikael had gotten himself into, part of him would feel calm. Niklaus got nervous when he thought about the specifics of the problem (which he had little information about). But when Niklaus imagined his father’s beaming face, the sweet way he would mess with his son’s hair, after Niklaus had finally proven he was not foolish. Klaus imagined a different kind of father, — a different sort of life—, once he had proven he was strong and brave. After he had made Mikael proud…life would become softer....And after all, why wouldn't it? Once Mikael knew he could stop worrying about training his sons and keeping them alive, he would go back to being the father he was when they were young...the father that made them laugh and loved when they all crowded his lap to hear stories from his home...Mikael could finally be the father they loved again...

Such thoughts made Klaus feel lightheaded, as though he was walking over clouds. In such moments, he felt his head threatening to fall as his eyes blinked tiredly. But this state was always cut short when his mind began drifting off to dreadful thoughts. Niklaus imagined Mikael being angry at him for disobeying his direct orders. The prospect of his father’s cruel and harsh words made a knot form in his throat. He could not afford to be foolish this time. Mikael had been in such a strangely good mood for so long; he had been so tender. They had all started to get used to i _t. No,_ he thought _, I’ll make him proud this time_. 

His feverish determination helped to keep his mind in check. It almost kept the worst of all thoughts away. Almost. But as he smelled the blood around him, Niklaus thought of his father: cold and dead, laid on the muddy ground. He did all he could to push the image out of his mind. Niklaus could not bear to lose his father. Not now that they were finally beginning to get along again. Not now that life had begun to feel tender and perfect once more.

When Niklaus tripped over the first body, it was already dawn. He fell over. Niklaus was briefly unable to move as he stared at the blood soaked man, who laid on the ground, his eyes were still open. Klaus felt last night’s supper trying to crawl out of his mouth. He thought of Mikael. Klaus got up and looked around desperately. He soon saw more bodies and rushed to them; always dreading and hoping to find his father among the fallen men.

Niklaus followed the trail of bloody dead bodies and it quickly lead him to a valley near the river. He just then realized how far from home he had gone. He heard screams coming from a small hollow clearing. He rushed to it, trying his best to not trip again over the fallen bodies in the way.

Mikael was being held down by five men. Though, they didn’t held him for long. Two other men stood on the sidelines. They stared viciously at Mikael as they prepared to attack him.

His father was soaked in too much blood for Klaus to see if he was hurt. By the way his father fought, Klaus would have sworn Mikael had just gotten started with the fight. But, even if his father did not hesitate or flinch as he threw one the men off his feet; Mikael was breathing heavily. Tiredness slowly burning his muscles. He brandished his sword as he fought the four remaining men.

Niklaus’s hands shook as he grabbed a blood stained sword from the floor. Determination clouding his vision, he stormed into battle.

Klaus jumped over the two men, who were preparing to rejoin the fight. He managed to throw one of them off his feet. But the second was a much better swordsman and Klaus no longer had the element of surprise. The man quickly slashed Niklaus’s chest. Klaus did his best not to drop his sword and continue to fight. But the pain of his wound slowed him down. Two other men rushed to him and grabbed his arms. Niklaus stirred violently trying to free himself. But it was no use. The three men punched and kicked him, going as far as slashing his leg in order to make Klaus kneel down.

As they overpowered him, Niklaus let out a howl scream. It caught Mikael’s attention. He glanced startled at his son. His face contorted with a maniacal rage as he stabbed one of the men and viciously pushed the others out of his way.

“Destroyer!” Bolverk called as he pressed a knife against Niklaus's throat. He gestured to the two remaining men, who were still trying to fight Mikael. They slowly retreated. Bolverk stared victorious at his opponent.

Mikael gazed at them horrorstruck. As his eyes jumped from Bolverk to Niklaus, Mikael seemed to be unable to decide who he wished to strangle first. In the end, though, Mikael seemed to decide to avoid meeting his son's gaze, at all costs. His eyes burned with a hellish light as he studied his opponents' faces. But, as his mind decided upon a course of action, an enraged calm began to possess him. His postured changed, ever so slightly, as a maniacal sweetness started to shape his features. 

As pain ran like lighting through his body, a desperate fear began to burn in Niklaus's chest. He stared desolately at his father, scared for their lives and cursing himself for his foolishness. Though, as he glanced around, Niklaus found that none of the devilish-looking men ignited the same sort of primal fear in his heart as his father did. And, to his surprise, it seemed he was not the only one to think such a thing. A strange voice screamed in the back of his mind that Mikael looked terrifyingly inhuman and monstrously unworldly as he stood there cover in blood.

“Take your hands of my son, Bolverk.” Mikael ordered quietly as he tilted his head back, still breathing heavily. “Your fight is with me. If you harm him—,”

“Oh! Don’t you worry, _my king_!” Bolverk spitted out scornfully. “I will not touch him—, as long as you do as I say, Mikael.”

“Oh for Odin’s sake! Your wife has the _right_ —,”

“ _Damn that whore of a woman!_ ” He barked.

“Father—.” Klaus muttered quietly as shame contorted his face. He stared painfully at Mikael, doing his best to keep his tears from falling down his face.

“Let the boy go.” Mikael’s lips twitched as he glanced furtively at his son’s terrified face.

“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry.” Bolverk chuckled darkly. “I’ll let your boy go. So he can tell his mother, and _my wife_ , all about what I did to you today…”

Mikael scoffed. “I already took down most of your men, Bolverk.” He tilted his head back slightly. “Let my son go now and I will spare the rest of you.” He declared formally, his lips trembling slightly with anger.

Bolverk scoffed bitterly. “Oh the five of us you mean? _How kind!_ ” He spitted in Mikael’s direction.

“Stop being a damn fool!” Mikael retorted. “I came here to find truce. Your men started the fighting. I simply defended myself.” He sighed as Bolverk’s men stared viciously at him. “I do not wish to have a bloody war, Bolverk! Specially not over something as trivial as a divorce!” Mikael seemed exasperated, a slightly tiredness ringing in his voice. “Let my son go now. Call off your men. You can still save a few of your wounded…”

“To hell with them!” Bolverk shouted. “I shall avenge them still. When I send youcrawling to the gates of hell.” He chuckled bitterly. “I will be dammed if I let you walk out of here without paying for what you did!” Bolverk yelled.

Mikael exhaled deeply as he slowly stepped forward. “Come and fight me then!” He replied raising his chin. “Stop hiding and scheming like a Christian and fight me like a true warrior!” He commanded.

Bolverk laughed loudly. “Oh! I will, Ødeleggeren*. But, first,” he glanced briefly at Klaus. “Let us play a game!” He chuckled as he positioned his knife over Niklaus’s shoulder.

Mikael flinched. His eyes shined brightly with a maniacal rage. “Bolverk, you—,”

“Stab your own shoulder, then,” Bolverk replied darkly. “if you do not wish me to do it to your son.” He smiled scornfully as he watched Mikael.

“Father—,”Klaus begged quietly; fear boiling up inside of him.

Mikael flinched at his son’s voice. He hesitated as he glanced at his son. His grip tightened around his knife as Mikael watched tears map his son’s face. 

“Quiet!” Bolverk barked, as he turned to face Niklaus. “Now, boy,” he smiled sweetly at Klaus. “Don’t you want to know if your father truly loves you?” Bolverk chuckled at Niklaus terrified gaze.

“Bolverk!” Mikael barked. He raised his knife and placed it over his own shoulder once Bolverk turned to face him.

As the steel cut through his flesh, Mikael did not make a sound. He tilted his head back, making sure all traces of pain were erased from his face. He could feel Niklaus’s tearful eyes on him, but he avoided meeting his son’s gaze religiously. Mikael quietly begged all the gods to give his son the common sense to look away.

“Good.” Bolverk smiled, his eyes filled with raving delight. “Now your leg.” He commanded.

Mikael stared at him as he did what he was told. Bolverk’s men chuckled softly. Though, Mikael’s strange posture frightened them. His face was expressionless; it had no trace of pain, sorrow or rage. His eyes were cold and stoic. He was as deadly calm as the ocean before a storm.

Meanwhile, Niklaus fought with violent sobs that cut his breath. He wanted to scream, to get up and help his father. But even if he, miraculously, managed to force his captors to let go of him, Klaus knew he would be no use in battle. His leg and chest hurt too much; he was not sure he could stand on his own. But, perhaps more than anything: Niklaus was paralyzed with fear. Shame contorted his face as he watched his father mutilate himself to save him. _I failed him,_ the thought burned his mind like wild fire.

“Good, then!” Bolverk laughed. “Now throw away your sword.” He gestured to his men. “Let’s fight like _warriors_ , shall we?”

Klaus groaned in pain, as the two men, who were holding him down, threw him to the floor violently and joined in the fight. “No!” He cried desolately. Niklaus felt tears burning his face as he clutched his fingers to his chest wound. He watched in quiet despair as the men strolled in his wounded father’s direction.

Bolverk was the only one to stay behind. He stood close to Klaus; a vicious smile shaped his lips.

Mikael had raised his fists, ready to fight the men with his bare hands. But then he glanced over to Niklaus and Bolverk and a shadow passed through his eyes. Klaus thought a faint reassuring smile played on his father’s lips as their eyes briefly met. Mikael sighed sharply as he lowered his hands.

Perhaps, Niklaus should have been glad none of the men ran a sword through his father’s chest. But the way they beat Mikael—, it broke his son’s heart. Klaus wanted to scream, crawl into a hole and die. He lowered his head to the ground, sobbing loudly and praying for help to every God he could remember. But Bolverk pulled his head up.

“Look, boy!” He shouted scornfully. “It seems your father likes you, after all!” He laughed maniacally.

As sobs shook his shoulders, Niklaus stared resentfully at Mikael. Rage and sorrow boiling his nerves as he watched his father. Mikael breathed heavily, blood staining his lips and face.

“I think that’s enough!” Bolverk order, once his men had beaten Mikael to his knees.

Bolverk began to slowly draw his sword as he strolled over to Mikael. A delighted madness lighted his face.

“No!” Niklaus yelled as he threw himself over Bolverk. He grabbed the man’s leg and almost made him fall. But Klaus was too weak from his wounds and Bolverk was much faster. He grabbed Niklaus’s hair and pulled him away from him as he kicked the boy’s face. Niklaus fell to the ground feeling pain run through his body.

He raised his head just in time to watch his father throw a sharp piece of wood directly at Bolverk. Klaus thought his father was moving faster than lighting. Mikael jumped to his feet with a jolt as another piece of wood flew from his hand. It stroked one of the men in his eye and he fell dead. Mikael jumped over two of the remaining men. He grabbed their knives from their belts and used them to slit their throats. Mikael turned around quickly and began to fight the last of Bolverk’s men. Mikael disarmed his opponent swiftly. He then beat the man with his bare hands until he fell down unconscious.

Niklaus watched his father in awed amazement. Even with all his wounds, his father fought with the ferocity of a thousand men.

As Mikael glanced around, he saw Bolverk flee through the trees, clutching his wound. Mikael scoffed bitterly as he moved to follow Bolverk. A maniacal sweetness shined in his eyes. Part of his mind drifted to revenge; imagining all the things he would do to Bolverk (recalling darkly all the things his father had taught him about torture). Another part of him, however, was simply glad for the thrill of the battle. Mikael knew once his blood cooled down, he would feel the pain of his wounds like the Devil's kiss. But his blood was warm still. And, as his bottled up rage began to blur his vision, Mikael felt his blood burning hotter. The terrible truth played on the back of his mind: he missed war. Mikael missed the sweet memories of youthfulness the fighting brought to his mind. He missed the strange power that ran through his veins when he wielded a sword. But, perhaps more than anything, he missed knowing he had a purpose, a destiny. After all, every soul who had ever met him, in one way or another, held one common belief: _Mikael was born for war._

"Father!" A soft cry came out of Niklaus's mouth as he called desperately for his father.

Mikael grunted as he turned to face Niklaus. He believed he could go on with his hunt, his war, after he had yelled some orders to Klaus that would sent him home. But the sight of his wounded son, the naive light that shined in Niklaus’s eyes as he stared at his father, drowned every other thought in Mikael's mind: _after all his_ _family did not think he was only made for war…did they?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ødeleggeren means The Destroyer (in Norwegian)


	7. The Artist and the Viking met in the bloody battle field

“Father!” Klaus cried softly again as he tried to raise his body. Groans of pain cut his breath as he found he could only raise his upper body and at significant cost. He tried to crawl closer to Mikael, grunts of relief and pain drowned his lungs and yet more tears mapped his face. 

Mikael marched quietly to Niklaus. As he stared at his son, a harsh rage changed his posture. He slapped Klaus across the face; stamping his five fingers on his son’s face. Sobs and groans of agony made Niklaus breathless once more, as he fell back to the ground. Though, his father pulled him back up. Mikael brusquely grabbed Klaus’s arms as he knelt in front of his son. 

Niklaus was suddenly aware of a cruel voice in the back of his mind. _Father must beat you now_. It said darkly. _He just maimed himself to save your useless life, you ungrateful weakling! The least you can do is try to take the beating with as much nobility as he did._ Niklaus’ heart jolted, as his guilt turned into fear. He knew he deserved some punishment for his foolishness. But he had hoped and prayed to all the Gods… his father had been so tender when he gave him his knife…

“What the bloody hell were you thinking, boy?” Mikael screamed, his voice filled with a deadly wrath. Though, his eyes held a strange desperation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Klaus repeated numbly as stared at the floor. He hoped his father would not notice the tears dancing around his face and the childish trembling of his lips. 

“Look at me!” Mikael ordered, ignoring Niklaus’s pleas. But his son was to busing sobbing and begging the Gods for a quick beating to bother looking up. “I said look at me, boy!” Mikael grabbed Niklaus’s chin and forced the boy to face him.

Klaus raises his eyes, cursing himself under his breath. Mikael’s enraged expression softened slightly when he met his son’s eyes. “I’m sorry....” Niklaus continued bleakly, trying to escape from under his father’s gaze.

“Are you mad, boy?” Mikael shouted bitterly, tiredness drowning his voice. “Coming here… You foolish boy, I told you to stay home!” He shook his son’s shoulders. “You could have gotten yourself torn apart!”

“I, I only wanted to help you!” Klaus blurted, trying to control the violent sobs, which threaten to cut his breath once more. 

Mikael scoffed, but his grip around his son’s arm softened. His eyes studied his son’s face with a reserved dread. _Gods_ , Mikael pondered, _I was younger than him, the first time I did something as twice as stupid as this!_ He chuckled nervously. But another voice crawled into his mind _. By then, I already knew I could take a beating and survive…_ A resentful smile played on his lips as he let go of his son’s chin. He shyly rested his hand on Klaus’s shoulder. Niklaus flinched and looked startled at his father. _Good Frigg,_ Mikael sighed bitterly, _he is just so bloody soft and childish…_

He gazed sorrowfully at Klaus before getting up with a low grunt. Mikael made sure not to stubble around, no matter how much pain it caused him to stand. Fortunately, his dark and blood-soaked clothes hid most of his wounds. 

“Father—.” Niklaus began, desperate sobs still making him breathless.

“Do you think you can stand on your own, boy?” Mikael asked dryly. Niklaus stared at him in silence. “Did you lose your tongue as well as your wits, or did those bastards cut it out of your mouth?” Mikael yelled. The words burned his mouth, making Mikael wish to gouge out his own tongue.

Niklaus nodded hopelessly as he tried to get his legs under him. But it was no use. He let out a weak scream from behind his clenched teeth as he fell again at his father’s feet. Klaus sobbed as he prepared to try again, feeling his cheeks burning bright with shame.

“Come.” Mikael commanded softly, as he held out his hand for Klaus, who grabbed it reluctantly.

He pulled his son to his feet. Niklaus tried hard to put on a brave facade and even cleaned the tears on his face. But he could not stop himself from grunting loudly and stumbling around. Niklaus wobbled forward as his father let go of his hand. He would have fallen down once more, had Mikael not caught him in time.

“Here.” Mikael put his arm around Niklaus and helped him stand. 

They made their way back to their village. Niklaus did his best to not trip or stumble, and at first he was successful. But soon it was clear he was growing too weak and tired to walk.

With part of his son’s weight over his shoulders, Mikael’s wounds ached bitterly. Still, unlike Niklaus, Mikael controlled his groans of pain. Mikael tried to avoid the dead bodies along the way and so they walked closer to the river. Still, the path was full of obstacles, and they had to drift. Mikael knew they must get back as fast as possible. Otherwise Esther would send Elijah and Finn to look for Niklaus. _And Odin only knows_ , Mikael thought, _what troubles those two fools will get into if I’m not there_. But, with his wounds draining the life out of him, and Niklaus slowly becoming heavier, Mikael feared the worst. He quietly glanced up to small pieces of blue sky, partly hidden behind the leaves of the tall trees, and prayed. _Oh, Allfather,_ he repeated numbly in his mind, _please, please give me the strength to carry my boy home…_

“Stop.” Niklaus begged bleakly, as his shivering hands barely held on to his father’s shoulder. “Please, father. Stop.” All color had left his face. 

“Hush, now, boy!” Mikael ordered with clenched teeth. He tightened his grip around his son’s back. “We are almost home. Just hold on, Klaus.” He pulled his son closer to him, feeling his own hands trembling with the effort. 

“I can’t. please.” He moaned, feeling his knees giving out under him. “I can’t...” he muttered as his body fell forward.

“Niklaus!” Mikael grabbed his son; desperation clouded his vision. He laid Klaus down as gently as he could, resting his son’s back against a tree. Mikael knelt in front of his son, his face contorted with pain and worry.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Niklaus continued to mumble numbly. He lowered his head; his eyes overwhelmed with tears.

“Quiet!” Mikael demanded, feeling his lips tremble. “Let me see the wounds…” he commanded, lifting his son’s hands.

Niklaus groaned. “Please. Father. Please. Forgive me.” Again sobs cut his breath. He tried desperately to grab his father’s arms, but Mikael avoided his grip.

“Be still!” He ordered. Mikael took off his son’s jacket and cut it in pieces with his knife. He used the pieces of cloth to stanch the blood of Niklaus’ wounds. Mikael soon realized it was wretched work: Klaus kept flinching and moving slightly away. As for Mikael; his own hands were so weak and trembling he thought they’d fall off his arms. 

He tried muttering an old prayer his mother had taught him to calm his nerves. But he was afraid he would forget part of it or say it wrong and the Gods would forsake him. Still, he prayed, with his own broken words, for his Gods to let him take his son’s pain away. Part of him doubted it would work. Mikael had not prayed to his Gods in so many years; he thought they would turn a deaf ear to his pleads. But his Gods were not dead yet. 

Mikael sighed and gently rested his hands over his son’s worst wounds. As he felt the familiar painful warmth run up his hands, a smile shaped his lips. It had been years since he took someone else’s pain upon himself. Esther always treated their children with herbs and magic; his abilities might be useful in desperate situations, but it was not a cure. He only transferred the issue to himself; he did not solve it. But, now, Mikael’s power was the only thing which could help their boy. 

Old memories quickly plagued Mikael’s mind: all the times he ‘healed’ his little brother’s sore knees so they could go back to playing faster; every time he healed his brother Nik and Ansel during the full moon, so they would not feel the pain of the transformation. A sorrowful pride grew in his chest as he remembered how no one knew the true price of his powers. Not even his own brother, not until the end… Mikael always thought it was because of his talent to hide his discomfort and his ability to withstand an inhuman amount of pain. Though, he had to admit, this ability was a _gift_ from his illustrious father, Stoick.

However, Mikael knew he could not take away all of Niklaus’ pain; he was not strong enough; not as young as he used to be. Even if his own wounds would not let him rid his son of pain; Mikael could still help Niklaus heal faster. It would cost him energy and it would make his own process of healing far more painful and extensive. Still, it did not bother him much _. He will be alright,_ was the only thought in his mind.

“There.” He said once he was done. A quiet smile of pride shaped his lips as his son’s face regained a bit of color. 

“This should help until your mother can patch you up.” He said brightly, his voice trembling with tiredness. 

Mikael grabbed Niklaus’ shoulders, ready to lift him to his feet once more. But Klaus stared at the leaf-covered ground and refused to move. His cheeks burned red. He had stopped sobbing when Mikael began his work. Still, tears mapped his face, and he avoided his father’s gaze. 

“Niklaus, just give me your hand.” Mikael ordered, exasperated. 

“Just leave me here!” Niklaus cried softly. “It is all my fault. I’m foolish. I’m too weak! And you—.” his voice failed him as his shoulders shook with sobs. “I’m so sorry, father. Please forgive me, please I…”

“Enough!” Mikael yelled, barely able to restrain himself from slapping his son’s face. Niklaus flinched as Mikael’s grip of his shoulders tightened. “Listen to me, boy!” He shouted. “Do you want to die here? Do you?” he shook his son’s shoulders.

“No, father...” Niklaus groaned softly as he shook his head. His entire body shivering as he tried to control his breath.

Mikael sighed. “Good,” his grip softened again. “You need to get up now, my boy.” His hand shyly touched his son’s neck. “Do you understand, son?” his finger softly stroked his son’s cheek.

Niklaus reluctantly glanced up at his father. Mikael’s eyes were filled with a quiet forgiveness. Niklaus could not believe it was real. _Perhaps there could still be happiness. The_ thought burned into his mind. 

“Yes, father.” Niklaus muttered, feeling his heart drumming in his chest. 

A shy smile shape his father’s lips, but he glanced away. Niklaus waited for Mikael to help him stand. His father did not move. He stared at the river in silence. His eyes seemed lost in painful thoughts. It made Klaus’ heart skip a beat.

“Father.” Niklaus whispered, uncertain. “Are you—,”

“Don’t tell your mother about it.” Mikael blurted out. “You can tell them about the fight, just don’t…” He sighed. “Do you understand?” he inquired, exasperated.

“Yes.” Niklaus replied promptly. “I promise I will not tell a soul, father. Ever.” He added, once again, with the solemnity of a holy man. 

Mikael chuckled. “Good.” he sighed, “Come, now. Or your mother will soon die of worry…”

He got up with a low grunt; his legs trembling with each step. He quickly pulled Niklaus to his feet once more. Mikael wrapped his arm around his son and put Klaus’ arm over his shoulder. They walked faster, but not by much. Mikael’s expression every time Klaus would let out a grunt was a mix of anger and sorrow. Niklaus tried his best to stay awake, but, even though his pain had diminished significantly, tiredness slowly took hold of him. He rested his head on his father’s shoulder, as he desperately tried to keep his legs moving. Mikael smiled as he glanced at his son’s sleepy face. He tightened his grip around his son as Niklaus became heavier. 

_And just when I thought,_ Mikael pondered, _he had gotten too tall for me to carry him…_

A smile shaped his lips as they marched back home.


	8. Homecoming

“Oh, God!” Esther shouted as Mikael walked into their hut, carrying Niklaus. “What happened?” 

“Bolverk…” Mikael answered bitterly.

“Try to clean the wounds, dear…” Esther told her daughter as she handed her a bucket with water. “Finn, get the herbs. Henrik, find Kol and bring him home… Elijah, more water…” she frantically rushed through the house, grabbing remedies.

“Yes, mother…” they all muttered.

Mikael laid Klaus on his bed gently. Rebekah rushed to her brother’s aid. Mikael stepped away, his knees shaking. He leaned on the table and watches them.

“Does it hurt?” Rebekah asked shyly as she touched her brother’s face. 

“A bit…” he answered, trying to sound stronger than he felt. Klaus awkwardly raised his eyes to meet Mikael’s. To his surprise, a soft hint of a smile seemed to play on his father’s eyes. 

“What happened?” Elijah inquired as he laid down the buckets of water near the table.

“Father defeated thirty men, all on his own!” Klaus said proudly, trying to catch his father’s gaze. “And I… well, I tried to help, but…” Klaus looked down. Shame contorted his face and burned his cheeks. “Still, he fought bravely and, and _saved me_ …” Klaus felt his vision being blurred by tears. 

Mikael let his eyes meet Klaus’, a soft smile shaping his lips. He sighed, tiredness drowning his senses. At least, his mind concluded numbly, they are all fine now…. 

Elijah and Rebekah stared at their father and brother, unable to contain their shock with the unexpected tenderness of that moment. Rebekah is the first to smile, as her mind raced through questions. Elijah tried to ask his brother for more details, but he found he could not utter a single word. He and Rebekah found their hearts were beating too fast with happiness for their minds to concentrate on inquiries. They too dreamed of a tender father…

Though, no heart was beating happier or faster than Niklaus’. Mikael’s tenderness seemed unreasonable. Mikael’s beaming face was all Niklaus had dreamed of when he sat off to find his father. But he knew he had not made his father proud. Klaus almost got the both of them killed; he was foolish and failed his father. And yet, Mikael carried him back home… and he was smiling… it was unrealistic for Niklaus to believe his father would continue to be this way—this tender—from then on. But he did, with all his heart…

Esther, just like her children, halted and stared at her son and husband. 

“Thirty men?” Esther scoffed. “Alone…?” Her voice is an angry whisper. It caught Mikael off guard. He glanced at her, surprised. “Have you gone mad?” She screamed, gesticulating at him.

“Mad…” He scoffed. “I was mad when I listened to you and tried to reason with that bastard!” He snapped, almost losing his balance. 

“You could have died!” She snapped back. “All because of your foolish pride!” She blurted angrily, tears clouding her vision.

“Pride?” Mikael repeated bitterly. “Pride…” he scoffed, shaking with pain and anger. A shiver ran through Elijah, Klaus and Rebekah as they watched their father's posture change. All trances of tenderness running from his face.

“What would you rather I do Esther?” He gazed at her. “You would rather I waited for him here? So all of our foolish boys could get torn apart while trying to play ‘ _warrior_ ’?”

“This is madness…” she hissed, tears mapping her face. “You said we would not have wars here!” She muttered to herself.

“I was mad when I ever thought that foolish boy of yours could learn to wield a sword!” He replied, gesticulating to Niklaus and losing his balance. Mikael grabs the table just before he falls down. Pain runs through his body while he struggled to stay standing. Mikael avoided Klaus’ eyes.

“Father!” Klaus blurted out, his voice trembling. Niklaus felt his eyes burning and his heart sinking in his chest as he heard his father’s words. And yet, there was something different about his father’s rage this time. It seemed false and desperate. 

“They wounded you…” Esther said, shocked. She had forgotten her husband could also get hurt. She moved forward promptly and gently touched Mikael’s shoulder. He flinched slightly. 

“Tend to the boy first.” 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mikael!” She says exasperated. “Lay down before you fall dead in front of your children!” she said determinately. Esther took his hand into hers and tried to lead him to their bed. He refused.

“I did not carry that stupid boy all the way up the river for him to die _here_ because of _your sentimentality,_ woman!” He said under his breath, gesticulating angrily to Klaus.

In his rage, Mikael briefly lost his balance. Esther grabbed his shoulders quickly and held him before he fell. Mikael avoided his wife and children’s gaze. Desperately, he tried to force his body to stand straight on his own, but it failed him. His entire body shook as a barely hidden pain contorted his face. Esther tightened her grip around his arms. 

“ _Damn you!”_ Esther whispers. She touches his face softly, forcing him to look at her. “ _You_ brought our boy home, Mikael…” she says tenderly. Her words cut through him. Against his best judgment, Mikael lets his head fall. His forehead touched hers softly as closed his eyes. “He’s home… and he’s safe, my love… and he’ll be alright…” she whispers. He groans severely, a hint of a smile on his lips. “They will all be alright…” she continues as his hand touches her cheek softly. “Stop being such a stubborn bull and lay down now, would you, my love?” Esther teased, looking up to him. 

“Hmm…” Mikael grunted with a smile. He opened his eyes lazily, and taking a sharp breath, followed her to their bed. He sat down roughly. Feeling his head getting lighter, he looked around numbly. Esther quickly prepared for him a cup with her miraculous tea. Mikael smiled shyly while he took off his muddy boots and blood-soaked jacket. Still, he avoided looking directly at his children.

“Father…” Klaus murmured, trying to catch his father’s gaze once more. His drumming heart almost crawled out of his mouth as he heard Mikael’s stubbornly tender words. His tired mind raced around all conclusions, but the meaning of his father’s words were obvious: _The one thing which can terrify Mikael is the prospect of losing one of his children..._

Elijah and Rebekah stared dazedly at their father, unsure what to do our think. Still, just as Niklaus, something in their father’s posture gave them the strange feeling life would be better. By the state Mikael and Klaus were, they realized difficult days were on their way. But now, more than ever, they trusted their parents to protect them. And they were young and naïve enough to believe they could fight alongside them against whatever the evil threatened their family...

Esther handed Mikael the cup of tea. A smile shaped her lips. He stared at her with a faint, dazed expression. Her smile seemed to fade slightly when he took a moment longer to take the cup from her. She sighed sharply once his fingers touched hers softly. Mikael chugged down the tea, feeling it burn his throat. His eyes fixed on his wife’s. He wondered if she knew what it did to him; how it either pulled him into a maddening, uneasy sleep or gave him the most terrible nightmares. 

“ _Lay down.”_ Esther commands. Tears making her eyes shine. With a halfhearted grunt and a small smile, Mikael obeys. 

“Now…” Esther says, cleaning her face before turning to her children. “You all will have to help me…” She then gave out instructions to her children.

However, Mikael didn’t understand much after he laid his head down. He kept hearing their voices, but it felt as though he was listening to them from underwater. Still, it made him happy. They were still there. After some time, his body gave out underneath him. He felt as the magic in the tea pulled him into a dreamless slumber. He was thankful for it. At least, it was not nightmares. But, occasionally, he tried to listen again. Even murmurs filled his heart with joy.

The worst moments were the quiet ones; at night. Then his mind would stay in a half awaken state and wonder aimlessly through strange thoughts. It always reached the same terrible conclusions, though. He thought the deafening sound of the silence was to blame for such thoughts. But even as he woke himself in a rush and looked around desperately; even when he saw them (laying in their beds or walking around the house), the dreadful feeling of loss remained. 

_They could be gone_ … the words burned his mind. He tried to remember them, their faces, voices, smiles and laughter. Mikael always remembered them as children. It was easier. The memories of them smiling at him were more often in those days. But it also made him more restless. They were still his children, and he needed to care for them and protect them. Only, he knew, for a loud voice screamed at him from the back of his mind: his children were, in more ways than he dared count, no longer children. 

This, sometimes, scared him even more than the prospects of a war in the New World. For he knew much about wars (too much even), but of grown-up children? What would he do when they stared to fight wars of their own? How could he protect them then? What would he do if they left to explore unknown lands? What could he do for them when they were no longer his to care for? And even worse: what would he do with himself? What will he do with the ever-growing madness in his mind (always a step too close to the surface) when they are gone? And if the madness one day swallows him whole, should he really expect his children to stay beside him, when, in all their minds, his madness and cruelty are far more characteristic of him than his tenderness and his love for them? 

Mikael’s mind wonders around aimlessly. Shivers running up and down his spine as he dreads lingering in any thought a moment too long. Though, no matter what he thought, an unforgettable voice would always dwell on the background of every one of his awakened moments. It would whisper ruthlessly: _the other is coming..._

**Author's Note:**

> And yes I know I’m like six years late in this fandom, but what the hell. I wanna write this and it’s gonna be long. 
> 
> Also English isn’t my first language, but I tried to keep the spelling mistakes to a minimum. I really appreciate comments.


End file.
